


night terror

by soulshrapnel



Series: Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sleep Sex, Space Fascist Disaster Boys, i mean it WOULD have been consensual if they'd bothered to sit down and talk about it first BUT NO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulshrapnel/pseuds/soulshrapnel
Summary: Vader decides to surprise Tarkin in his sleep. It doesn't go as well as he had hoped.(Kinktober, Day 10: Somnophilia)
Relationships: Wilhuff Tarkin/Darth Vader
Series: Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947379
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	night terror

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT official "Playing With Fire"-canon but it's loosely based on a scene I almost wrote for "Holding Vader's Leash." It's also, um... It's noncon because sleeping people can't consent but it's a lot more light-hearted and tropey than that other noncon story I posted and everybody is okay in the end. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Tarkin dreamed of the Carrion Plateau. He crept through its thick underbrush with the cries of forest creatures in his ears, his mind keen on movement, pursuing something or perhaps being pursued. This was a common dream for him, and it could end any number of ways - illicit pleasure, stark terror, aimless searching, or the simple satisfaction of a good fight.

His mind was not clear enough to know that he was dreaming. But the dream seemed to be heading in the direction of pleasure. The scrape of twigs and leaves against his bare arms had begun to feel like a caress. He could smell his quarry on the wind, a pleasant animal smell - he would be close enough to see it soon, surely. Close enough to strike.

Something unexpectedly snared his foot - a root, perhaps. He couldn't see it clearly. Tarkin tugged at it, suddenly trapped. With his other hand, he pawed at his body; his clothes, as sometimes happened on long expeditions in the wild, were in tatters. Where was his hunting knife?

_Something_ was pawing at him, and it wasn't only his own hand.

In the way of dreams, Tarkin wasn't nearly as alarmed as he should have been. Whatever this invisible thing was, dragging itself up the bare skin of his legs, he was both offended by its presumption and intrigued by the challenge it posed. How did one best fight an enemy like this, with the power of touch but no physical form? How dangerous was it? What could such a creature want from him, and why did - he bit back a small noise as it reached between his legs. Why did it feel _good?_

Then he heard Vader's breath in his ears, and he snapped awake.

He lay in the darkness, utterly disoriented. He had not been afraid in the dream, but he was abruptly afraid now. For the barest moment he did not understand why, or what was happening, or where he was, only that something was _wrong._ The invisible thing from his dream was still here, pawing at his body, still sliding warmly up and down his cock. He couldn't _move._ He couldn't even breathe as deeply as he needed to; there was something on his chest. Where _was_ he? Who the hell was doing this to him?

He was in his guest bed at Fortress Vader. He remembered _that,_ after a moment. He'd gone on a date with Vader, as was becoming his habit, and he'd spent the night here. And-

Oh.

That explained it. Vader was in the room, clearly; the breath was unmistakable, and the blink of lights on Vader's suited body confirmed it. And this bizarre ghost sensation was not dissimilar to what Vader normally did during sex. Vader was doing something to him with the Force.

Vader made some movement Tarkin couldn't quite see, and a small slick tendril of Force-touch pushed _inside_ him. Tarkin made a small, choked, panicked noise.

It should have been a comfort to know this was Vader. Tarkin _liked_ sex with Vader, and they'd done plenty of perverse things together already. It was just that he was barely awake yet and immobilized in the darkness, and he couldn't catch his breath, and Vader was looming above his bed only half-visible, like one of the room's grand shadows come to life. It was not a comfort to know that Vader could come in here without any warning while Tarkin was at his most vulnerable, without even being able to hear him as he approached, and do as he pleased. It was exactly like being fucked by a night terror.

"Vader," Tarkin snapped, regaining his ability to speak. "Stop this nonsense right now."

Vader obligingly stopped. The pressure holding Tarkin's body down, as well as all the other sensations, vanished in an instant. He sat bolt upright, relieved that he could move again, and caught his breath.

"I have often sensed you wishing I could join you in your sleep," Vader explained. It was impossible for Vader to sleep in a bed; he needed either his meditation chamber or his bacta tank, neither of which was hospitable for visitors. "This struck me as the next best thing."

Was he sheepish? Was he apologetic at all? Tarkin didn't think so. But the voice modulator in Vader's helmet tended to flatten such nuances away.

"I thought your way of having sex-" Tarkin stammered. Vader liked to use the Force to create sensation for his partners, and to telepathically soak up the fear, pain, and pleasure they produced in response. Tarkin had assumed that a partner would need to be _conscious_ for that. Evidently not, though; he'd felt Vader's touch in his dream. "Never mind. Vader, you can't just _do_ this kind of thing. Don't you remember all those talks we've had about negotiation? I can't negotiate with you if I'm not awake."

"My apologies," Vader said dryly. Tarkin heard more than saw him folding his arms. "Your sleeping body was pleasant. Yielding."

Tarkin suppressed a shiver, remembering how blithely he'd accepted the strange assault in his dream. He imagined it from Vader's perspective, looking down at Tarkin's body on the bed that way, unguarded, calculating what could be done to him, and he felt a traitorous twitch between his legs. The sense of danger was one of the things that attracted him to Vader. The game of staying one step ahead of this creature who could destroy him with a thought.

Tarkin looked at him flatly. "You forgot that I _don't_ yield."

"Evidently." Vader uncrossed his arms and turned to leave.

Tarkin, for some odd reason, felt disappointed. It had only been a minute since he woke up. His heart still hammered in his chest, and he was painfully hard. Tarkin was going to have trouble getting back to sleep unless he took care of himself. And something seemed wrong to him about that.

"Vader," he snapped, "get back here."

Vader paused in the doorway and turned. And that was a _good_ sight. Vader still responded to Tarkin's commands. It felt right, assuming control over the rest of this travesty.

Vader regarded him. "I had been led to believe you had objections."

"Yes, all of that stands. You're not going to do that again without an explicit agreement in advance." Tarkin eyed Vader, what little he could see of him. "But I'm awake _now._ "

Vader's tone had grown amused. "And now you want me again?"

"I think that you owe me an apology in kind."

"I _owe_ you nothing." Vader stalked back toward the bed. "But I desire you."

"Good."

With a hard shove in the Force, Vader pressed him back down on the bed. Tarkin smiled to himself, exhilarated. Vader wasted no time in returning to his former task, immobilizing him, pressing down on him with that weight again. The Force closed in around his cock again, tight and slick as it had been before. This was the nightmare scenario he'd woken up to, helpless in the dark. But it was different now: this time it was a thing he had made Vader do.

"There is a paradox in you," Vader rumbled in that darkness. "Your senses want me, even when the rules you make in your mind forbid it. I have seen that before."

Some part of the Force pushed inside him again, and Tarkin's head arched back. Some tiny scrap of the heightened sensitivity he'd had in sleep, some paradoxical relaxation in his limbs, had remained. This was warm and sweet and heady and _good_. But that was no reason to show any weakness.

"Those _rules,_ " Tarkin said coolly, "are the only reason you get me at all. Perhaps show some respect."

Vader pushed into him harder, right against the sweetest spots, picking up his rhythm. "I respect that you enjoy being trapped underneath me in the dark. How your body cries out for the ways I can use it, even when you do not know me."

"That's not what it-" Tarkin protested, but his cock had betrayed him again, animal bliss rising up in him at Vader's words and spilling over midsentence. He bared his teeth, snarling as he came.

The wave of warm comfort afterwards almost sent him to sleep again. Vader was ridiculous as always, this whole _thing_ was ridiculous, but it no longer felt worthwhile to argue.

"Pleasant dreams," Vader said, and he swept out of the room.

Grumbling to himself about Vader's bedside manners, Tarkin fumbled around for a handkerchief and managed to clean himself off. He then flopped down on the bed, facedown this time, and pulled the covers back over him. One of these days, Tarkin promised himself, he was going to have a good night's sleep here.

**Author's Note:**

> why does anyone allow me to write words. on a keyboard of my own. i don't know


End file.
